ᐯIᐯᖇE ᑭEᖇᗪᖇE ЯéᑭéTEᖇ
by Baguette Me Not
Summary: Another failure. Another second chance. (Desperada spoilers.)


**post/187593595441/badly-behaved-rabbit-chatnoirinette-what-if Kind of inspired by this.**

* * *

𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐,

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

~ 𝚄𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗

* * *

It's funny, Adrien thinks, how people can say _it's the longest five minutes of their lives_ with such passing ease, not knowing, truly _knowing _just how long those mere _five_ _minutes_ can truly be.

But why would they? How could they possibly know what it would be like to relive the same moments over and over outside of common media? Looping time in a never ending circular motion, always going back, always failing.

Always failing _her_.

Every single time, no matter how close he held her, no matter how long he watched out, she'd be ripped from his arms, faded to dust as he cradled empty air.

Another failure.

Another second chance.

Sometimes he'd only had time to watch in shock filled horror as she drew in a breath, others she'd have time to leave a parting word, a single phrase like 'oh' or 'go back.'

She even called his name.

His name on her lips should have been a joy, once had, but all he felt was numb, guilt ridden because_ he let it happen again._

And again.

And _again._

It's as if a record disk has been stuck on repeat, playing the same old tune.

She's here, she's not.

She's gone, she's not.

Because she's there, that ever encouraging smile resting on her face, still hopeful. Still believing in _him _when his hope has long since been drained. Yet, in that moment, it lifts him up with the determination he needs for another round. Another trial. Another go.

They run.

And he's grasping, _grasping _for anything at all, be it her, the bracelet, or just anything he can get his hands on because he's _reaching reaching-_

The trumpet calls — the one he can still hear in his dreams, that haunts and plagues his own nightmares — and he knows he was just a second too late.

It was always just a second.

Still, that didn't stop him from trying. Surely, there had to have been something missing. A key to the puzzle he had just overlooked, because why else would Ladybug specifically request for _him _of all people, when there were so many others to choose from?

_He_ couldsave her, and _he_ would.

No matter what it took. No matter how many repeats, how many fails, how many times he slunk down onto the floor, hot tears threatening to spill in his eyes as the weight of it all got too unbearable.

No matter how many times she had to pick him up, whisper words of encouragement into his ears, praise his plans-

He's running, running, _but he's not._

Stopping, stopping, _but he's stopped_.

_He _couldn't save her, and _he _wouldn't be able to.

It had made sense in the end, the last chance making it clear what he had to do.

It had never been about _Adrien_. The snake, _yes. _But not _Adrien_. No, who they were missing from the puzzle was Chat Noir, despite what his Lady constantly reiterated. Even after thousands upon thousands of attempts, it was impossible a plan from the get go. Without three of them.

He couldn't go on any longer like this.

So he took a step back.

And the five minutes ended.

Just like the dream.

Eyelids flip open, hands hastily reaching out into the depths of the night, a name on his lips and a sob in his throat.

Adrien knows instantly what the dream was, it being one of many he's had for the past consecutive nights in a row. Somehow, despite how hard he tries, the memories always keep on coming back, waking him in the dead of night after he tried so hard to get to sleep.

Sweat slithers down his brow, a cool trickle against the heat of his forehead.

_(When had it gotten so warm?)_

He's up, chest still heaving as he almost blindly rushes to where he knows the bathroom to be, only pausing to swipe up his phone from the bedside. _Click_, the lights are blinding, but at least he can see. Can clear his head. Can _think_.

Tap water proves soothing to the skin, being sploshed over his face in repetitive motion. Perhaps it would eventually wash these tired circles away from his eyes?

_(The concealer covered it.)_

He doesn't recollect opening the page to the Ladyblog, but it's there, wide open for any alerts. He's already scrolling, but nothing has been posted there since yesterday evening. She's _okay_.

_(Why wouldn't she be?)_

That doesn't stop him from checking.

_Scroll, scroll._

She's there smiling, waving towards the camera mid-leap.

_Scroll._

The image is taken from a distance, but the red blur is prominent.

_Scroll._

There she is, speaking to an akumatised victim.

Safe.

But not because of him.

He'd _failed _her, twenty five thousand, nine hundred and thirteen times exactly. Too many.

Too many times.

Too many trumpets echoing throughout the streets, pumping through his brain like a constant pulse, her warmth still tingling on the tips of his fingers, rapidly fading-

Never again.

He clutches at his wrist, fingers wrapping their way round tightly into the skin, an impulse now second nature to him.

Never again because _he_ couldsave her, and _he_ would.

He casts his eyes to the reflection, to the boy staring back at him from the other side of the mirror, dishevelled hair sticking out at the ends. Then towards his ring, glinting under the bathroom light.

_Adrien _had lost her, _Adrien _had failed.

_Chat Noir_ wouldn't be making the same mistake.

He'd make it up to her.

He'd save her.

25,913 times exactly.

* * *

***Casts a sidelong glance at my twenty bajillion other half finished documents* Eh, later. Have some angst instead :)**


End file.
